Beginning
by redcandle
Summary: Oliver thinks Quidditch is all he has in life until Marcus shows him otherwise. OliverMarcus. Oneshot.


"Beginning" by Redcandle17

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and elements from the Harry Potter series belong to J.K Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

People are dying every day now. Or going missing, which is worse because while it means they're probably being tortured to death, it can also mean they've joined the ranks of the Death Eaters.

One of Oliver's former classmates is dead. She was a Ravenclaw and he always had to resist the urge to sneak a peek at her paper during Potions exams. Now her brain is decaying deep in the ground, probably consumed by maggots. Her intelligence didn't save her and it's no use anymore.

A boy Oliver shared a dormitory with for seven years is missing. Unlike Oliver, he didn't waste his passion on Quidditch. He used his Gryffindor courage to advocate for the rights of werewolves, veelas, and other not fully human magical people. Now he's probably been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse so many times that he's forgotten his own name.

Oliver is in no such danger. He's not smart – except when it comes to devising Quidditch strategies – and he's not brave – except for the stunning dives he makes on his broom fifty feet in the air to save a goal. He doesn't want to make the world a better place, or even keep it the way it is, so he is no threat to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He's as safe as any wizard can be these days.

All other witches and wizards are focusing on their families, their friends, their lovers, and their pets. They're trying to write their autobiographies and complete their Celeste Warbeck record collections. They're making those visits to Stonehenge they always said they'd make.

All Oliver has is Quidditch. All he wants to do is play the perfect game, block every attempt by the opposing chasers to score.

Then his nightmare comes through. The Department of Magical Games announces that the professional Quidditch season is being ended early. In fact, competitive Quidditch is being suspended indefinitely. The crowds are a security risk, even in daylight, because the Death Eaters are getting bolder.

Oliver is devastated. This is his first year as Puddlemere United's starting Keeper. For the first time, he contemplates joining the fight against You-Know-Who. How dare the evil bastard ruin his life like this? But mostly Oilver's focused on what may be the last match of his career.

It's Puddlemere United versus the Falmouth Falcons on a cold, windy October day. The stadium is nearly empty, but that doesn't matter to Oliver. Quidditch has never been about performing for an audience or auditioning for groupies for him. For Oliver, Quidditch is about winning, about proving his worth as a person. It's what he's good at.

This match is special for another reason. It's his first match against the Falcons since Marcus Flint became one of their chasers. His desire to defeat Marcus, to prove he's the better man, is stronger than it was at school. Oliver thinks he may just curl up in a dark corner and die if he loses this match.

He hasn't seen Flint since their last day at Hogwarts, over two years ago. Flint is even larger now, thanks to the brutal Falcons training regime. He is truly an intimidating figure, speeding towards Oliver with the quaffle in his hand. There's nothing but air between them. Oliver feels a twinge of _something_ that he's never felt before.

He blocks Flint's first two attempts to get the quaffle through his goal posts. Each time he returns Flint's enraged glares with smirks. The third time Oliver has to make a choice between saving the goal or saving himself.

Quidditch is the love of Oliver's life. He chooses to stop Flint from scoring, even though it means he slips off of his broom. As he plummets to the ground with the quaffle clutched in his hands, he can see Flint's incredulous expression. Then he collides with the earth and sees nothing but darkness.

When Oliver regains consciousness, he's laying on his back on the pitch. The team's mediwitch is kneeling beside him. So is Marcus Flint. Oliver can't imagine why Flint would care whether he lived or died.

After the mediwitch pronounces him healed, and after his teammates congratulate and chastise him, Flint is still there.

"We won," Oliver croaks, "I won."

"You bloody idiot!" Flint snarls. "You're so fucking stupid. What were you thinking? You nearly killed youself over a goddamned goal. One lousy fucking goal."

Flint is angry with him, but not for thwarting his attempt to score a goal. Oliver doesn't understand this. So he says so. "What so you care?"

"I shouldn't," Flint replies. "You're so damn stupid. I should be grateful you nearly removed yourself from my life for good."

"Don't call me stupid," Oliver says.

His teammates look from him to Flint and back again. Then they look at each other. Apparently reaching some silent consensus, they leave. Oliver is left alone on the pitch with Flint.

"Do you have a death wish?" Flint asks quietly. "Do you want to die, Oliver?"

Oliver doesn't answer. He's distracted by Flint's use of his name. He calls Flint Flint and Flint calls him Wood; that's how the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry works.

But he's no longer a Gryffindor and Flint's not a Slytherin anymore. Flint pokes him in the chest and says, "Quidditch isn't worth your life."

The words burst of Oliver. "Quidditch is my life." He's embarrassed. It's true enough, but it never seemed quite so pathetic before.

Flint shakes his head. "Quidditch is a game, Oliver. This is life." He bends his head close to Oliver's face. His lips are pressed to Oliver's before Oliver can push him away.

Oliver doesn't want to push him away. Flint's lips are surprisingly soft and it's been so long since Oliver has kissed anyone. Oliver wants to pull Flint down on top of him. He grasps at Flint's robes and Flint is the one to pull away.

"Do you see?" Flint whispers.

No, not Flint. Marcus. His name is Marcus, though Oliver has never uttered the word before. He says it now. "Marcus."

Marcus licks his lips and stares at Oliver.

"It's getting dark," Oliver says. And it is true. The sun is sinking in the horizon and there are no other people around. It feels like a momentous occasion. It feels like the end of the world.

"I'll help you home," Marcus says, helping Oliver to his feet.

"Thanks," Oliver says. Maybe it's not the end of the world. Maybe it's the beginning of his life.

End


End file.
